Taking a Chance
by fhestia
Summary: Harry and Severus find their relationship entering unfamiliar territory when Severus falls ill. The most chaste, innocent, snuggly Snarry you will ever read; nothing explicit except the cuddling. AU sickfic, set after The Deathly Hallows.


Harry crested the final hill on the road leading to his home. He paused to take in the sight of the little frame house nestled between two foothills, smoke curling lazily from the stack, flickering candlelight in one window welcoming him back. He quickened his pace. After the day he'd had, he just wanted to get inside, curl up in front of a fire and shut everything else out.

He nudged open the back door, squeezed through the narrow opening and let his bag drop to the kitchen floor.

"Severus?" he called. The house was still, preternaturally quiet. Harry peeked into the small sitting room and found it empty, the fireplace cold and dark. He knew he must be elsewhere; probably still working in his greenhouse.

Severus was by nature a practical man and liked to stay busy. Harry didn't mind. His endless to-do lists kept him occupied and prevented him from falling into a brooding depression. Besides that, he simply loved watching Severus work; loved the unguarded expression on his face when he became utterly absorbed in a project, the surety and competence with which he went about his tasks. He always did his best not to be caught out staring because he would receive nothing but an impatient glare in return, but he couldn't help himself.

Harry pulled up his collar and shivered as he made his way across the small garden. The sun had long ago disappeared behind the hills and the wind was whipping straight through him as he trudged up to the greenhouse.

Through the condensation running down the glass panels, Harry could just make out Severus sitting hunched over his workbench. Only a single flickering lantern lit the gloom. Harry shut the door behind him tightly, savoring the residual warmth that still lingered in the small, humid space.

Severus sat with his arms folded on the workbench, head bowed, the cuttings and transplants he had been working on pushed to one side. He didn't acknowledge Harry's presence.

"Hey," Harry said quietly, not wishing to startle him. "Taking a break?"

Severus lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, saying nothing in reply. He fiddled idly with a pair of shears held loosely in one hand, his hair obscuring his face.

"I've just come from town," Harry said. An unnecessary bit of information, he knew, but he felt suddenly uncomfortable in the weighty silence.

Harry tried again, stepping closer to where Severus sat. "The unicorn fern is coming along nicely," he said, although it was only to fill the silence. He couldn't tell one plant from another in the dim light. He started to feel a bit worried now. Although still finding his way in unfamiliar territory, he knew Severus was seldom this quiet; even in his worst moods he tended to keep a running, ill-tempered commentary.

Harry leaned over and plucked he shears from his fingers. As he turned to set them on a high shelf, he placed one hand on the nape of Severus' neck to steady himself. Harry felt him tense and shudder deeply at the touch.

"You're warm," Harry said in surprise. "You've been working too long. Why don't you stop now and come inside, take a break?"

Severus nodded, and then turned away, pressing a loosely clasped fist to his face. At a sudden muffled sound, Harry laughed. He couldn't tell if he'd coughed or sneezed.

"What was that supposed to be?" Harry said. "I'm not sure if I should bless you or not."

Severus stood quickly, stumbling slightly as his feet tangled in the legs of the stool. Harry knew immediately he'd put his foot in it. No one liked to be laughed at, least of all Severus.

"C'mon, don't be mad; you just surprised me," he said. "I'm sorry, okay?" Harry tried to follow him as he turned and stalked away. "Not coming down with something are you?"

The greenhouse door slammed in Harry's face before he could even complete his question. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, cursing himself for his instinctual and juvenile reaction. He would have to make it up to Severus somehow.

He followed a trail of clothing back into the house: Shoes lying in a heap just inside the back door, socks in the kitchen, jumper hanging from the latch of the bedroom door. When Harry finally found him, Severus was tucked into a chair in the sitting room, a blanket draped around his shoulders.

Harry crossed the room, snagged the chair from the corner desk, flipped it around and plopped down with his arms resting across the back. He sat silently for a moment, feeling unsettled. He'd never actually stopped to consider the difference in their ages before. Of the two, there was no question that Severus was the more powerful and formidable wizard, but at the moment, as he sat shivering, face pale, eyes red-rimmed, he looked older, vulnerable, and it caused Harry's stomach to twist in dread.

"You left before you answered my question," Harry said, trying to sound casual.

Severus glanced over at him, managing to look both puzzled and angry.

"Are you coming down with something? You don't look well."

His dark eyes flashed and Harry recoiled. He knew that look; knew it very well and it still had the power to send a chill through his body. He should have left well enough alone.

Severus opened his mouth to issue what Harry knew would be a scathing reply, but before he could speak, he pitched forward violently, using the edge of the blanket to stifle a sneeze.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said apologetically.

"Do what?" His voice when he finally spoke was a hoarse, congested croak.

"Y'know, hold it in like that," Harry said. "I'm sorry I teased you."

Severus sat back and closed his eyes. "Leave me alone."

Harry hesitated. He felt he had handled this all wrong from the very beginning. "Can I do anything for you?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know." Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Help me out here. I'm not good at this sort of thing. Can I fix you a cup of tea? Some soup?"

"No, thank you."

"Pepperup?"

Severus made an impatient noise. "I'm resistant to nearly every healing potion. You should know that."

"And how _should_ I know that? You've never been exactly forthcoming with a lot of personal details." Harry didn't know why he was reacting with fear and anger rather than compassion, but he couldn't stop himself from snapping at him. "I didn't even know you were ill!"

He pushed himself from the chair, but softened his tone when he noticed Severus flinch slightly. If he had a headache, shouting at him would only make it worse. "How did it happen?"

"I assume in the usual manner," Severus said. "An infection with a rhinovirus triggered an immune response which in turn produced systemic symptoms of sneezing, congestion and a low-grade temperature."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said but he found it too difficult to say what he really thought. How had it happened when Harry wanted to protect him from any further struggle or hurt? He tried a different tack.

"Well, how long have you been ill? You seemed fine a few days ago."

Although it bothered him that Severus had been feeling ill without sharing it with him, it bothered Harry more that he'd been so oblivious. Had they been playing at a relationship all along, neither willing to let the other in completely out of fear or stubbornness?

"I'd rather not discuss it just now, if you don't mind."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Harry said. "It happens to the best of us. Catching cold doesn't mean you're weak, it just means you're human."

"When you've finished philosophizing, Mr. Potter, I would like to rest."

"Of course. Sorry." Harry lifted his hands in defeat. "I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

Harry blinked as he moved into the light of the kitchen. _Mr. Potter._ He knew it was Severus's way of trying to distance himself from an embarrassing situation, but it still stung. He thought they had come farther than that.

Six months before, Harry arrived at Severus's door; heartsick, trailing a broken marriage and failed relationships, staggering under the weight of guilt and expectation. He'd found a broken but brave man who offered no explanation and no apology. Away from Hogwarts and their longstanding House prejudices, they were beginning to discover they were two men with more in common than either cared to admit.

Harry moved around the room with nervous energy, filling the tea kettle with water from the tap, setting it on the burner, measuring tea into the pot. His attention was keenly focused on the snuffling and groaning he could hear from the other room.

_It's just a cold,_ he reminded himself sternly. _He's survived much worse._

He stood tapping his fingers impatiently on the small stove while he waited for the water to boil. It was tempting to use his wand to speed things along, but by mutual agreement they were in seclusion; Severus to escape his past and Harry to escape his own legend. If they ever rejoined the magical world it would be on their own terms. For now, any use of magic would bring its own complications.

When the tea finished steeping, Harry poured out a cup and added a generous measure of honey. The house had fallen silent again, and as Harry moved into the room, he saw Severus sleeping, his head resting against the back of the chair. He bent to set the cup on a nearby table and then went about quietly starting a fire in the grate.

His eyes were drawn to where Severus slept peacefully, his mouth open as he snored softly, hair splayed across his face, his expression almost peaceful. Harry smiled down at him, his fingers twitching with the sudden desire to brush the hair back from his cheek, but he didn't wish to disturb him. The firelight only accentuated the shadows and harsh planes of his face.

Harry took a step backward as Severus suddenly frowned and opened his eyes. He sat forward quickly, steepling his hands in front of his face and curling into himself helplessly as a sneeze overtook him. The second sneeze was harsher, more congested, and followed by a strained and painful-sounding cough.

"You sound absolutely wretched," Harry said.

"How kind of you to say so," Severus replied, scrubbing roughly at his nose. He regarded Harry with a look of resignation and then closed his eyes. "Have you been watching me all this time?"

"Well, not the entire time," Harry admitted. "I also made tea." He stuffed his hands in his back pockets, wanting to do more for him but feeling rather helpless. "You're shivering," he observed. "Are you cold?"

"So it would s...seem," Severus said, clenching his jaw to try and keep his teeth from chattering.

"Well, is there room in there for me?" Harry said, gesturing toward the chair. "I could warm you up."

"If ever I was not in the mood, Potter..."

"That's not what I meant!" Harry said, realizing belatedly how suggestive his offer must have sounded. "I know you're not feeling well. What do you take me for, anyway?"

"A selfish, tireless young brat who thinks only of his own pleasure."

"Well, yeah, but besides that..."

At this, Severus glanced up and with a brief, grudging smile moved over slightly. Harry grinned back as he snuggled into the chair beside him.

Severus was taller and sitting spooned as they were, Harry found that his head nestled perfectly in the space between his shoulder blades. He sighed and wrapped his arm around Severus, letting his hand trail down his chest to his stomach. Harry rested his hand against the concavity below his ribs, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

They lay still for a while and as the warmth seeped into his body, Harry began to drift in and out of a light doze, but he woke completely when he felt Severus tense beside him.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, but in reply there was only a sharp inhalation and a harsh, muffled sneeze.

"Bless," Harry murmured against his back. "I wish I'd known you were ill."

"Why?" Severus asked. "So you could stay home and play nursemaid?"

"No, of course not." As usual, Harry found himself unable to articulate his feelings. How to explain that it was intimacy he craved, deep knowledge of this man who still held himself separate in so many ways? He wanted more but didn't know how to ask without sounding like a fumbling idiot. "I just...would have liked to have known, that's all."

Severus was silent for a moment and then he sighed. "I hate being ill."

Even this stark bit of honesty, delivered in a monotone, provoked a surge of affection in Harry. He tightened his arms around him.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be too sorry," came his reply after a moment. "You may still come down with it, and if you do, you'll discover I'm not nearly as nurturing as you seem to be."

Harry nuzzled the delicate patch of skin just behind Severus's ear and chuckled softly when an answering shiver rippled along his skin.

"I'll take my chances," he whispered.


End file.
